


Earliest Memories

by theanonymouslibrarians



Series: Underwood Lives [1]
Category: Bartimaeus - Jonathan Stroud
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, past trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-10-02 12:29:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17264243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theanonymouslibrarians/pseuds/theanonymouslibrarians
Summary: An argument with Underwood leads to Nathaniel telling Bartimaeus about one of his earliest memories. AU, explanation in note.





	Earliest Memories

**Author's Note:**

> Note: I do not own the Bartimaeus Sequence or any of its characters. Basically, this is set in an au where Underwood survived. He was in a coma after the fire, but woke up to being told how his apprentice had told everyone how he, Underwood, had suspected Lovelace and how Nathaniel had defeated the other magician. Underwood then had to deal with living with an apprentice whom he loathes and fears. Nathaniel was stuck with a subpar master who would probably kill him if he could muster up the courage and energy. So he summoned Bartimaeus again, earlier than in the canon, and he slowly grows to trust him.

 

 

“Off! Get off! Now!” 

I let out a hiss as I leapt off the mattress, nimbly avoiding the unreasonably irate magician’s flailing hands. Ptolemy’s eyes turned red and I added fangs to the guise, as I perched on the headboard.

“Alright, alright, no need to yell!” I snapped. 

Naturally, Underwood didn’t seem to feel the same way. (1) “Off! Off!” The magician shouted, hitting at the headboard. “Lest I summon an afrit to teach you your place!”

(1 This wasn’t unusual. The senior magician of the household had initially not deigned to address me. But when it had become clear that his apprentice, a mere child, yet one who had more power and intelligence in his little toe than Underwood did in his own body, who was responsible for both Underwood’s wife’s death and Underwood’s rise to a position of semi-respectability, cared more for a djinni’s company than his own...well, then of course my very existence seemed to offend the man. Not that there was much he could do, of course. Nathaniel was the Prime Minister’s golden boy now and to throw him out was to risk everything Underwood had gained from Nathaniel’s lies. So, the magician took to yelling at me whenever he wanted me to so much as move an inch to the side.)

I wasn’t intimidated. From what I’d seen of the old man (and I’d been living with him on and off for a year) summoning even a first level djinni would have been enough to lay him up in bed for a week. Summoning anything that even came close to my power and might...well, that was just out of the question. Still, I did a flip off the headboard, over Underwood’s head, and landed gracefully next to Nathaniel’s desk. (2)

(2 Never let it be said that I lacked for style.)

The boy had swiveled around in his chair and was looking at his master with an annoyed expression. “I’m studying. What do you need?”

Underwood’s face was flushed and he looked rather like a mix between an ape, a tomato, and an eggplant. “Never...never you mind what...what I needed! Long have I tolerated that, that _thing’s_ presence in my house! I thought it prudent to encourage you to explore your powers! Summon something that was a challenge! (3) I thought it unwise of you to allow it such free reign. But to allow it on your bed?!?”

(3 Balderdash! Underwood hadn’t taught Nathaniel a lesson since before the Lovelace incident. Nathaniel was probably capable of teaching Underwood more than a few things. They maintained a façade of being master and apprentice because for Underwood to disown Nathaniel he would have to explain that he had had no idea that Lovelace had stolen the Amulet and that Nathaniel was more powerful than he, and Nathaniel would need to admit that he’d lied to the Prime Minister. It was a mutually beneficial if hostile arrangement they had.)

Nathaniel rose to his feet, fists clenched. “I hardly see how It's your business where Bartimaeus sits. This is _my_ room and It's _my_ bed!”

“In _my_ house!” Underwood thundered back. “One would think that you would show more respect to the man who has cared for and protected you since childhood!”

Nathaniel scoffed. “Protected me? From what?”

“Were it not for me, you’d be out on the streets! Your parents didn’t want you! I gave you a home!”

Nathaniel waved a hand dismissively. “A shelter. And food. That’s all. I’m sure the orphanages would have found as much. But that’s beside the point. Yes, this is your house. But this is my room, which you have so _kindly_ allowed me to keep, and Bartimaeus is my servant. I would thank you to remember that when trying to order him about.”

“Servant?” Underwood gave a harsh laugh. “Servants don’t take the liberties this one does. To see the things you allow him to do anyone would think he was a member of the household! (4) Sometimes I think you forget what he is.”

(4 He had a point. I’d been furious when Nathaniel had summoned me again. I still was and was planning on exacting my revenge any day now. When I got around to it. But his only charge was to look after his safety. Well, apart from an imp here or there, there wasn’t much to take care of. This led to an awful lot of downtime, where Nathaniel would plunge headfirst into his studies, more often than not falling asleep with his head in a book, and I would either lay back on his bed or couch, read a book, and do my best to be as distracting as possible. It was a comfortable enough existence. For Earth.)

“You’re raving.” Nathaniel shook his head. “I’m well aware that Bartimaeus is a djinni. I’m the one who summoned him.”

“He’s a demon! Damnit, boy, did you learn nothing that day in the study?”

The effect of these words was unexpected. Nathaniel’s face blanched, and his eyes took on a faraway look. A hand reached backward for something to support him, landing on the arm of the chair. Unfortunately, as the chair had wheels, this only caused Nathaniel to stumble backward, almost falling onto his desk. 

Underwood was continuing his tirade, but I had tuned him out and somehow I didn’t think Nathaniel was listening either. I would have been perfectly willing to let Nathaniel have his mini breakdown, but that could have meant having to be the one to deal with the other magician.

Tentatively, I placed a hand on Nathaniel’s shoulder. That brought him out of it. He gave a start, and turned to look at me. There was an odd...almost searching look in his eyes...well, whatever he was looking for, he seemed to find it. The boy’s eyes hardened as he turned back to face Underwood.

The air around the boy grew dark, his shadow growing on the wall behind him, and when Nathaniel spoke, there was a sound like thunder. (5) “Enough!” Underwood ceased his prattling, and this time it was he that paled. “Out! I want thee out of my room! And don’t...don’t presume to give orders to Bartimaeus again!”

(5 Alright, so I was a bit overdramatic. But I suddenly found myself loathing the old man’s company and wanted to get him out of the room as soon as possible. Some cheap theatrics wouldn’t hurt.)

I’ll give the old codger this. He managed to hesitate a moment and then, muttering something about a letter for the boy, walked from the room. It was only when the sound of his footsteps reached the stairs that they sped into a run. I slammed the door for good measure.

Nathaniel stood there, staring at the place Underwood had stood. And then, fumbling behind him, he managed to drag the chair back into place and drop into it. He was still shaking, although I wasn’t sure whether it was from fright or fury.

“What was that about?” I ventured after he’d been silent for several seconds.

Nathaniel glanced up at me and then back down at the carpet. “Nothing.” He said in a curiously flat tone.

I scoffed. “Nothing doesn’t drain the blood from-”

“I said it was nothing!” This time it was a shout. He spun the chair around in what was probably meant to be a dramatic fashion, but he did it with too much force and ended up just facing me again. With a growl, he turned it in a much more controlled manner, and looked down with heavy concentration at his book.

I waited for him to speak after that. I didn’t even point out that his eyes weren’t moving along the page or that he hadn’t turned the page in over ten minutes. See, Underwood had it all wrong. Yelling at Nathaniel was all well and good when something serious was going on and you absolutely had to knock some sense into him. But if you wanted him to confide in you or grant a simple favor like asking his djinni to move from the bed, you needed to ask him calmly or plant the suggestion and wait for him to follow through. You simply couldn’t rush it.

“I-it was the first...the first...the first encounter I had with...with spirits. The study.” He still hadn’t turned around to face me. “I...I was six...and he was teaching me about demons. He said that they were wicked and would hurt me if they could. (6) He asked me if I believed him and I said I did but he didn’t...he didn’t seem to think that was enough. I...he told me to go to his study. To put on a pair of spectacles on his desk, and then come back.”

(6 Well, the hurting part was true enough. In certain circumstances. Most of us didn’t have much sympathy for humans. Being enslaved by most of the humans you met would do that to a spirit. The wicked...well, I’d say that was more on the magicians who ordered us to commit atrocities, but there’s magicians for you. They’d sooner place blame on the instrument of destruction than on themselves, the ones who controlled it. Still, to hear this from the age of six...it explained a lot about the boy.)

Nathaniel paused, but I didn’t rush him. Something told me I wouldn’t like what was to come.

“I...I did what he asked, but...but there were noises in the room. There didn’t seem to be anyone there, but there were...things started to move.” His voice sped up now, as if now that he had come to the main part of the story he couldn’t stop. “There was laughter and I couldn’t see anyone or tell where it was coming from. And then there was something behind me. I grabbed the spectacles and ran for the door, but it slammed shut! And I couldn’t open it and I was pounding on it but no one came! And then something whispered in my ear but, when I turned around, there was nothing...there was nothing there! And...and then I remembered the spectacles and I put them on and...there were imps and foliots all around! Once they realized I could see them, they lunged at me, scratching and kicking and hitting. And I couldn’t fight them off! I...I...” The boy gave a strangled sob and I realized with horror that he was crying.

I walked over slowly, trying to make enough noise to let him know I was coming. I placed a hand on his shoulder, half expecting him to jerk away, but he seemed to crumple under the contact and lay his head on top of his book. I cursed under my breath. I wasn’t good at this! The only human I had ever truly wanted to comfort before was Ptolemy and Nathaniel was not him. The boy had never broken down like this before and I didn’t have the first clue as to what to do.

“Er...there, there...” I said awkwardly. “It’s over now.” 

This didn’t seem to help much. With a sigh, I transformed into a desert cat, leaping into Nathaniel’s lap. The boy blinked down at me, eyes red and startled. It had been a stupid idea. Ptolemy had liked cats. Petting them had soothed him. But Nath- Slowly, almost as if he were afraid I’d scratch him, Nathaniel reached out and ran his fingers through my fur. 

I settled down, letting him continue. It actually felt nice. I waited until Nathaniel’s breathing seemed to even out before speaking. “I can eat as many foliots and imps as that old man can summon.”


End file.
